


Sing Me a Song

by LazyTrash



Series: Sing Me a Song [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Parallel Universes, Post-War, Romance, shared memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:01:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27076927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyTrash/pseuds/LazyTrash
Summary: Levi looks out to the glittering, deep blue sea, the warmth of the sun washing over his face."It’s been six years brat," he says, "and I’m still here, waiting for you."
Relationships: Mikasa Ackerman/Levi
Series: Sing Me a Song [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036314
Comments: 43
Kudos: 117





	1. Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!!! So remember when I said it's been depressing lately in the RM fandom? Yeah, well... here ya go haha
> 
> (This fic is quintessence of why I can't and don't write in canonverse)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a couple (totally OOC) headcanons I have:
> 
>   * Both Levi and Mikasa can sing really well, but Mikasa especially really likes listening to Levi’s voice so she always asks him if he can sing her to sleep or just to comfort her
>   * Levi and Mikasa secretly love to spoon and cuddle (but only away from prying eyes); ~~oh and fuck like rabbits too i guess~~
> 

> 
> Plus I really love the potential of alternate/parallel universes or timelines. Also, angst is kinda my jam hahaha ~~why tho~~
> 
> And thus, this story is born

It takes less than a week to get to the sea from Trost by horse. The days-long journey never stops Levi from taking it every other month, though. Despite the long travel, it helps him relax, to settle his mind and to get away from the bustling city he now calls home. 

That’s not to say that Levi’s current life is hectic. Compared to his last career, owning a small teahouse is actually quite peaceful, if not a little stagnant. He likes it, valuing the calmness and steadiness of his new, current life, but sometimes he needs to get away from it all. 

At last, Levi sees the grassy cliff overlooking the sea in the distance. Whistling, he pulls his horse aside from the road and ties it to a tree near the hill’s base. Hauling his backpack on, Levi begins to climb the steep incline. 

By the time he gets to where he needs to be, Levi is, admittedly, a little breathless. _‘I’m getting too old for this shit,’_ he thinks to himself, absently massaging his twinging leg before casting his pack aside. He closes his eyes, basking in the midday’s warmth. He hears seagulls caw, the crash of the waves below him, the wind whistling its tuneless song. The sounds center him, and soon, his breath and heart rate even out back to normal. Opening his eyes, he looks to the side.

There, at the top of the cliff he stands on, a monument faces the cerulean sea, standing proud and tall like a monolith of opaque, pearlescent ice refracting the sun’s bright rays. Carved into the monument, the blue-and-white Wings of Freedom glints beautifully in the sun.

A small, almost bittersweet smile flickers like a ghost on Levi’s face.

Bending down, he reaches into his backpack and pulls out a bouquet of bright, colorful wildflowers he’d picked along the way. Luckily, they haven’t wilted on the journey here. Levi gently places them at the monument's base, where the wind won’t pick them up and scatter them across the land and out the sea. Staying quiet for a few moments, his eyes take in the memorial he’d founded in memory of his friends and comrades, just like he does every time he visits.

After the war ended six years ago, Paradis, led by Queen Historia Reiss, quickly emerged from their isolation and advanced economically and technologically. Admittedly, the war had severely weakened foreign nations’ opinion on the island-nation, but Queen Historia’s story and tenacious sincerity slowly won them over as the years passed. With Historia's intelligence, drive, and sincerity, the nation found itself part of several multilateral and bilateral agreements and peace treaties, thus truly ending the war. Paradis was well on its way in becoming a significant world power with the help of Historia and Paradis’s small, but growing number of allies.

As Paradis advanced and changed, so did the remnants of society. Among these numerous changes, the Scout Regiment was dissolved, and a new branch dedicated to international military defence diplomacy took its place.

Tired, Levi was one of the few remaining Scouts who chose to retire and return to civilian life.

Being a lauded veteran such as himself and having carried the burden of humanity on his shoulders for nearly a decade, it was no secret that along with his reputation, Levi was entitled to several riches and commendations. But, in the meeting between the nobles and him and other senior officers from the dissolved Regiment months after the end, he looked at the nobles in the eye, every last one of them. All were unable to hold his stare.

“It’s fucking useless,” he told them, referring to the gold and money and riches they offered him like a bandage to cure his deep festering wounds they’d inflicted. “I don’t fucking need it. Build a memorial to the ones who actually fought and lost their lives for you repulsive recreants instead.” 

_‘No amount of money you throw in my face will ever bring them back to me._ _’_

Indignation rose up quickly amongst the cowards—he could see it in the way they pulled themselves up, in the displeasure in their eyes. But Captain Levi Ackerman of the Scout Regiment faced worse than fat, glowering nobles who only knew how to consolidate power cultivating humanity’s fear and hiding behind a cage of walls. 

Like the times he’d conquered the Titans, like the times he’d conquered Death, Levi imposed his will one last time, and his will was swiftly followed without question. 

And so, following his demands, the Scout Regiment Memorial was built facing the fathomless sea. He and the rest of the surviving Scouts pitched in, but it was Levi himself who painstakingly carved every single name into the beautiful stone, Levi himself who’d told their stories to those willing to listen. It took him a year, maybe more, to finish.

_‘This is for you, for those who fought to free themselves from their cage, to see the beauty of nature outside the walls. Stand here today and every day ‘til the end of time, and see the beauty of the sea. Stand here, and see the beauty of your fighting freedom.’_

His hand brushes across the names he’s most familiar with, the names of the friends and comrades who live only in his memories and for whom he now lives for.

_Furlan Church._

_Isabel Magnolia._

_Eld Jinn._

_Oluo Bozado._

_Petra Ral._

_Gunther Schultz._

_Mike Zacharias._

_Erwin Smith._

_Hange Zoe._

Then, his hand pauses. His heart clenches. Levi shuts his eyes, fingers tracing the letters of the name he knows is written there.

_… Mikasa Ackerman._

***

_“Sing me a song, Levi.”_

_“Tch. Stop bossing me around, brat. I’m the commanding officer here, not you.”_

_“Please?”_

_“… fine.”_

_._

_._

_“Promise me something Levi. After everything… regardless of who lives or who dies, we continue to fight._ **No**. _Not fight. Not_ survive. _We’ll continue to_ live. _We won’t wait on anyone. Not humanity. Not the dead. Not even our loved ones. We’ll move forward and live for ourselves.”_

_“What the hell are you talking about, brat—”_

_“Levi._ **Captain**. _Please. Promise me.”_

_A long, heavy pause. Skin against skin. “Alright. I promise, Mikasa.”_

***

Pressing his forehead against the cool stone, Levi brushes his lips over her name in a gentle caress as her words float in his mind. Then, he turns his face to the clear, deep blue skies, allowing the warmth of the sun to wash against his skin. 

“It’s been six years, brat,” he says to the smiling image in his mind’s eye. “And I’m still here, waiting for you.”

* * *

**855; Six Years Ago**

It’s late in the night, and Levi and Mikasa are still up, unable to sleep and unwilling to admit it’s due to their nerves over the impending final battle. Mikasa has prepared two cups of tea for the both of them— hers "slightly" sweet, his bitter— and they sit at a table, talking about anything but the topic of the final battle.

There’s been a lull in conversation for the last few moments, Levi quietly basking in their shared, comfortable silence and his hot tea, when suddenly, Mikasa pipes up,

“Can you sing for me, Levi?”

Taken aback at the abrupt request, Levi blinks at her, stupefied. “What?”

“Sing me a song,” Mikasa says, hiding a small grin behind her cup of tea. “One last song, before the end.”

Levi’s hand twitches around his teacup, and he sends her an unimpressed look. “Not _the end,”_ he corrects her imperiously. “End of the _war.”_

Mikasa rolls her eyes. Insubordinate brat. “End of the war,” she acquiesces and proceeds to raise a single eyebrow in his direction, as if to say, _‘I’m waiting.’_

Levi discreetly glances around. “We’re in public, brat.” _‘What if someone hears me?’_

A mischievous, indulgent look overtakes Mikasa’s face, and suddenly, his remaining tea isn’t enough to quell the dryness in Levi’s throat. Leaning forward until their noses nearly kiss, she whispers, cool breath fanning his face, “Then let’s go somewhere more private, shall we, _Captain?” ‘Let’s have some fun, old man.’_

Much, much later, in the safety of his own room and the comfort of their bed, Levi brushes a strand of midnight hair from Mikasa’s forehead, tucking it behind her ear. Here, she repeats her earlier request.

“Sing me a song, Levi.”

“Tch. Stop bossing me around, brat. I’m the commanding officer here, not you.”

“Oh? Pulling rank on me again, sir?” she purrs, leaning to bite his ear, and scoffing, Levi moves and pokes her side.

Mikasa shifts away from his attack, snickering softly, before glancing up at him with wide, pleading eyes. Levi’s breath catches at the way the moonbeams reflect in her eyes. “Please?” she asks, not letting her request go. _‘Sing for me?’_

Oh fucking hell. That manipulative, stubborn brat. He’s getting sentimental. A symptom of old age, Levi laments.

“... fine.” Tugging her closer to wrap his arms around her slender body, he opens his mouth and sings.

_We bore the weight of humanity_

_Their hopes and dreams our heavy burdens_

_All we’ve done for them is fight_

_Fight, together, in the shackles of duty_

_Blood and carnage, that never ending sight_

_Our lives an ever constant fighting flurry_

_But, what is it we fight for? What is it we survive for?_

_Is it peace we protect? Our liberty we desire?_

_Or is it freedom, freedom, our fighting freedom?_

_Yet, for me, I know my answer, my simple answer_

_And my simple answer is you_

_You who I’d fight for, for whom I would wait for_

_You, who made this burden lighter_

_Like the moon that hangs above the deep blue sea_

_You’ve controlled another part of me_

_Carry on, carry on, they say_

_We will fight ‘til the end_

_I shall fight ‘til the end to see you once again_

_And once when it stops, when our battles are over_

_When we’ve gained a peace we never got to know_

_I will be here waiting for you_

_Always, by your side, an everlasting fixture_

When he stops, all is quiet and gentle in the world. Mikasa’s breaths are steady and even against his chest, and he assumes she’s sleeping until she speaks, 

“Promise me something, Levi.” She pauses, and Levi patiently waits for her to gather her thoughts. “After everything, regardless of who lives or who dies, we continue to fight. **_No._ ** Not fight. Not _survive._ We continue to _live._ We won’t wait on anyone. Not humanity. Not the dead. Not our loved ones. We’ll move forward and live for ourselves.”

“What the hell are you talking about, brat—” 

“Levi. **_Captain._ ** Please. Promise me.”

Levi stays quiet. He knows Mikasa is thinking about Eren. Eren, whom she waited for once. Eren, whom she’d loved dearly and fought for, once. Still, this earnest appeal isn’t something he’d ever expected from Mikasa— they never breach the subject of an _after,_ of a future after the war, finding it a territory too unknown and too optimistic to think about, much less _talk._ It seems so final, this request. 

Irrational fear grips his heart, but he pushes it away and instead presses gentle, loving kisses along her face and neck. 

“Alright,” he whispers in her ear, indulging just this time. “I promise, Mikasa. We’ll live and move forward.” _‘Together.’_

Lacing his fingers with hers, Levi squeezes her hand, and she squeezes back. A silent promise.

“After the end of the war, of course,” Mikasa teases after a beat, burrowing closer into his chest.

“Tch. Obviously, brat,” he says, pressing his face on the crook of her neck and shutting his eyes. Inhaling her scent deeply, Levi tacks on a silent caveat, another silent promise to himself, for her.

_‘After the war, we will live for each other.’_

.

.

.

Their suspicions of the looming fight are correct. The final battle erupts one week after that night, and the remaining Scout Regiment throw their all to win, fighting nonstop for four more days. After all what's four more days to five-plus years?

As Humanity’s Strongest Soldier and Captain overseeing several squads, Levi doesn’t see Squad Leader Mikasa much in the days leading up to the four-day-long battle. 

It’s only until the dust has settled and the fighting stopped that Levi realizes he hasn’t seen Mikasa at all since the start of the last day.

.

.

They find her body buried under a pile of debris. Bruised face, broken ribs, broken arms, broken legs, broken _everything._ Her gear is crushed, likely from the rubble, and a gasless tank hints at her inability to escape from danger. Her time of death was estimated to be sometime in the final hours of the battle, right before the ceasefire.

He should’ve been there.

But he wasn’t.

Now… now, she’s dead. 

_“Sing me a song, Levi. One last song, before the end.”_

* * *

Levi doesn’t know how long he stands there, basking in the warmth of the sun and the memories he has of the people he’d fought with and who’d fallen along the way. He only opens his eyes when the rays of the sun cool and the bite of the wind sharpens. Already, the sky turns a darkening purple, the faintest pink and orange rays of light peeking over the horizon. The moon hangs in the dark canvas of the heavens, casting silver light onto the oceans below.

Without a sound, Levi gathers his things. He straightens the bouquet of flowers at the foot of the memorial and caresses the monument in remembrance. He moves to leave.

A rustling from a nearby bush immediately draws Levi’s attention. His hand instinctively falls to his hips, where he keeps a small dagger for safe-keeping. His muscles coil in preparation, eyes fixated towards the bushes and trees.

Levi hears a woman mutter, lost and confused by the high, sharp pitch of her voice, the rustling growing louder, before she stumbles into his sight. Head down, dark hair falling over her face, the woman grumbles to herself, shaking her head. She stands, once again muttering to herself and angrily wiping away at her clothes. Looking up, she freezes.

The clothes, specifically the top, the woman wears look formal, but otherwise aren’t very familiar to Levi. Black fitted pants hug her shapely legs. A beautiful, dark long-sleeved blouse embroidered with delicate flowers and geometric shapes falls across and accentuate her curves. A white cravat is tucked around the collar of the blouse and sits gently on her chest. It’s an unnecessary and unfitting addition, Levi decides.

The quiet expletive that falls from her mouth amuses Levi for half a second before his mind quickly places the sound of her voice— a voice he hears only in his dreams now. His eyes dart from the worn, white cloth sitting innocently above her collarbone to her hair and facial features.

Hair as dark as the onyx night brushing against a pointed chin. Dark grey eyes reflecting the moon's beams. Full rosy lips. A delicate, pert nose. A scar on her pale, sharp cheek. Fine, sculpted bone structure and slender face.

Levi’s breath stutters in his chest.

They stare at each other for what feels like hours. No one moves. No one talks, not until Levi breaks the silence with one single, tentative name.

_“...Mikasa?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what y'all think! Feel free to yell at me on my [Tumblr](https://secret-trash-for-mikasasass.tumblr.com/)!


	2. Real

Often, in the shroud of darkness accompanying night, especially at the wake of war and dust had just begun to settle around its ruins, Levi wakes up from one nightmare into another. His mind would taunt him for the deaths of people who’d died, of people he couldn’t save, and he’d wake up in a world they all no longer live in. 

_‘Humanity’s strongest soldier, huh? And yet, he couldn’t even save the ones he loves.’_

Other times, his mind is merciful, or perhaps more accurately, cruel in a different way. He would dream of a warm house, a family, a loving wife, waking up to kisses and hot, bitter tea in the morning, playing with two cheeky but smart dark-haired children with grey and blue eyes— things he knows he would never experience. Not anymore. Not like that. 

Still, he wakes from these dreams with a burning chest and burning eyes. It’s only when he sits and stares at the darkness in his room that the cold weight of reality dampens his burning dreams and settles like a hollow ache in his chest.

Levi wonders if he’s in a nightmare right now, in yet another yearning scenario his mind had callously set up for him. 

The woman— Mikasa?, his mind hopefully supplies. Fuck, he doesn’t know, it doesn’t make sense, it can’t be her because she’s _dead—_ snaps herself from her stillness and shakily takes a step towards him. Then another. And another, until she’s an arm’s length away from him. Her hand extends towards his face, and overwhelmed, Levi squeezes his eyes shut.

He stands still like a statue, waiting for _something,_ and when he doesn’t feel her fingers caress his skin, feels only the wind’s touch instead, a part of him feels victorious in its surety that this is only a dream. And yet, another larger, yearning part of him wishes that this… that _this_ is real. 

Then, the Mikasa imitation— ghost, apparition, whatever the hell it is, but one thing he’s sure of is that _this is not_ **_his_ ** _Mikasa—_ speaks. “Levi.” His name falls from her lips like a reverent prayer. “Captain. _Levi._ You’re alive.”

Levi jerks away from her, valiantly trying to keep space between the two of them. “Of course I am, brat,” he snaps at the vision. “You, though—” The words catch in his throat, and he grits his teeth. This has got to be a dream, he decides. Either that, or… 

“Great,” he mutters aloud, scoffing. “I’m talking to another hallucination.”

The false Mikasa doesn’t respond, taking another step towards him. Her hand brushes against his cheek, the moonlight revealing the smallest slip of a tattoo on her wrist, and _oh Maryoseshina, that wasn’t the wind—_

“I’m real, Levi,” Mikasa whispers brokenly. “Oh gods, you’re real, too.”

“Stop it,” Levi snarls, roughly pushing her away. _Is this real? It can’t be real._ “Fuck off. This isn’t _funny.” 'This isn't fair.'_

Mikasa shakes her head. “Levi, sir, Captain, please—”

“You’re not Mikasa,” Levi spits in her face. “You’re not. I saw her. _I saw her._ She’s not… she’s—” Levi barely suppresses the wail threatening to rip from his chest. “My Mikasa is gone. My. Mikasa. is. _dead!”_ His screaming, anguished words cut through the peace of the night and leaves a heavy silence between the two.

Levi points a shaky finger at her, shadowed eyes searing. “You, though— you’re not real. So get out. _Get out._ _GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”_ he shrieks at the apparition who dared take Mikasa’s form.

 _‘No. This isn’t real. This is_ not _real. I already lost—I can’t, I_ **_can’t_ ** _—_ _**Mikasa**... Mikasa_ _why—’_

Gentle hands pry Levi’s hands from the vice-like grip on his head. He hears someone gently whisper to him in the cold night’s breeze. She hums a familiar song—

_“What is it we fight for? … For me I know my answer, and my simple answer is you”_

—and his scarred heart threatens to turn to dust. 

_“Gods—”_ he gasps, _“Mikasa?”_

“Yes,” she whispers. “I’m her. I’m me. I’m Mikasa.” Her voice trembles, her finger tracing the length of his cheek, tracing over his scars, nose, lips, chin. Her eyes flick over him, drinking him in. “Levi,” she whispers disbelievingly. _“My_ Levi.”

This doesn’t make sense. “You _died,_ Mikasa.” Her body was found amongst the dead. Armin had confirmed it, Levi had confirmed it, the remaining members of Squad Levi had confirmed it.

“So did you,” she whispers, and then, maybe, Levi thinks he understands, if only a little.

“Tell me,” he urges her. _‘Tell me what happened to you.’_

“The war ended. Six years ago for me,” Mikasa starts. “I was leading my squad. I hadn’t been able to see… to see _you_ for four days. I’d thought I’d see you again. I wanted to. I was _hoping_ for it. It was what kept me going,” she admits.

“But then… You were among the dead, and I didn’t— _I wasn’t there.”_ Something flashes in her eyes, and they gain a faraway sheen. “You… they found you—”

_... multiple wounds and injuries, gasless, broken gear, crushed under a pile of rubble…_

“— you’d suffered from so many injuries, but whether it was before or after death….” She shakes her head and lifts a trembling hand to caress the cravat hanging from her neck. “There was no more gas in your gear, and we assumed that was why you couldn’t escape, why the gear broke, that it was crushed because…”

“Because of the pile of rubble that fell on top of you,” Levi finishes for her quietly. His heartbeat rages in his ears, eyes glued to Mikasa’s grey-slate eyes. Eyes he hadn’t seen in six fucking years.

_Oh, Maryoseshina, is this real—_

Stroking his fingers over her hand, over the smooth ink on her wrist, Levi earnestly requests, voice like glass,

“Sing me a song, Mikasa.”

“I should be asking _you_ that, old man—” A sob rips from Mikasa’s throat before she could finish, and startled, she presses her hand against her mouth. Levi’s vision blurs, but not before he sees the tears falling from Mikasa’s face. 

“Sing to me,” he begs her. “You’ve only done that once before.”

* * *

**855; Six Years Ago**

With a strangled gasp, Levi flings himself from Mikasa’s embrace, heart thudding angrily against his chest and mind feeling like mush. Beside him, Mikasa startles awake, years of being a soldier on high-alert making her a light sleeper. “What is it?” she demands. Though his eyes are shut, willing those images to disappear, he knows Mikasa is scanning the room, looking out for any possible threats.

When she spots none, Mikasa turns her attention to Levi. Reaching out and brushing the hair from his eyes, she presses a kiss on his temple, murmuring, “We need to sleep. We have a mission tomorrow.” Gently cupping his chin, Mikasa tips his head forward, their eyes meeting in the moonlight.

“Sleep, Levi.” Her command is gentle, full of worry, and a distant part of his mind notes how far they've come.

But then, like always, Levi thinks back to the screams, the blood and failure that greeted him in his sleep. Words fail him, but somehow, Mikasa understands. Somehow, she always does. 

Mikasa smiles at him comfortingly, squeezing his hand under the blankets. His angry heartbeat begins to slow, merciless reminders wither. “What do you want me to do, Levi?” she urges.

Settling into her arms, his request is a whisper, barely audible despite the silence of the night. “Sing me a song, Mikasa.”

 _'_ _Remind me why I fight.'_

With her fingers brushing through his dark hair, nails scraping soothingly against his scalp, Levi falls asleep to Mikasa’s clear, airy voice singing their song. 

_… when all the fighting is over_

_When we’ve gained a peace we never got to know_

_I will be here waiting_

_Always, by your side, an everlasting fixture_

* * *

Mikasa leans forward, hair brushing his shoulder, offering her hand, palm up, and Levi desperately grasps it with his own rough ones without a second thought. Their fingers lace together, a familiar feeling, comforting and intimate, a feeling he resigned he’d never feel again.

“Sing me a song, Mikasa,” he pleads again in the silence. "One last song." 

_'Remind me why I live.'_

Mikasa doesn’t react, her shoulders still shaking. Levi thinks that maybe she’s ignoring his request, that he won’t hear her sing, not ever, not again, not this time.

But then, she opens her mouth.

Then, Mikasa sings.

_But, what is it we fight for? What is it we survive for?_

_Is it peace we protect? Our liberty we desire?_

_Or is it freedom, freedom, our fighting freedom?_

_Yet, for me, I know my answer, my simple answer_

_And my simple answer is you_

_You who I’d fight for, for whom I would wait for_

_You, who made this burden lighter_

_Like the moon that hangs above the deep blue sea_

_You’ve controlled another part of me_

_Carry on, carry on, they say_

_We will fight ‘til the end_

_I shall fight ‘til the end to see you once again_

_And when it stops, when all the fighting is over_

_When we’ve gained a peace we never got to know_

_I’ll be here arms wide open_

_Waiting, by your side, an everlasting fixture_

.

.

.

_For me, I know my answer, my simple answer_

_And my simple answer is you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what y'all think! Feel free to yell at me on my [Tumblr](https://secret-trash-for-mikasasass.tumblr.com/)!


	3. Weight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOOO SNK 134 SPOILERS THOUGH aHHHHHHH

The way back to Trost is quiet, a shared silence laden with stolen looks, silent meanings, and unanswered questions. 

Levi takes the time to observe the woman, taking note of the minute differences he notices between the older Mikasa and his Mikasa. This woman walks in what he deems a regal manner, steps measured, sure, and confident. Time has chiseled and sculpted her face into something sharper, but he sees something in them, past the heavy shadows and haunted visage. Something softer— (where he is weary and broken down, she is soft; though Levi supposes Mikasa has always been a little soft, if not aloof)— something almost _free,_ the burden of humanity no longer bearing down on her. Not anymore. 

Whereas his Mikasa, like him, held the world on her shoulders, beaten down yet continuously fighting, this Mikasa is now a confident, poised woman, a soldier who survived a wretched war and flourished despite its acrimonious ashes.

Their eyes meet.

Mikasa smiles softly up at him, taking his breath away. _Gods,_ that smile—

“What have you been up to, these last six years?”

Levi turns away from her, eyes focused on the dirt path. “I built my own teahouse. In Trost. Business is doing pretty well. If I don’t get customers, I get orders from all over Paradis and some even from other nations.”

From the corner of his vision, he sees Mikasa nod, with what looks like a sentimental smile on her face, likely thinking of their nightly conversations past.

_— “A tea shop,” he told her once, eight years before the end. They were in the kitchen, sipping tea, unwinding from their long, late-night training and sparring practice. How they got to the topic of the future and tea is beyond him. “I ‘ve always wanted to have my own business on tea. A genuinely good one, mind. Those fuckers in Wall Sina and Rose don’t know shit about tea.”_

_“You really do love your tea, don’t you, sir?” Mikasa teased, to which Levi scoffed, but he sees the spark of honest wonder and admiration, of appreciation, in her eyes, and the ice around Levi’s heart melts just the_ tiniest _bit—_

“What was that, earlier?” she inquires after a few moments, then clarifies, “At the top of the sea cliffs. The white stone, with the Scouts’ wings. Was it—”

“A memorial,” Levi answers with a nod of his head. “For everyone in the Regiment who… passed.”

“Everyone, huh?” murmurs Mikasa— _‘Including me?’—_ and Levi feels the weight of her stare from even atop his horse. “Levi, were you the one to build it?”

The man himself swallows. “I had help, of course," he demurs. "Everyone left in the Scouts helped.”

“That’s amazing, sir,” Mikasa says softly. “Thank you. For doing that.”

Levi grips the horse’s reins, jaw clenching. “No one needs to thank me for something that needed to be done,” he retorts. _‘You’re the first to really thank me for something I’ve done,’_ is what he doesn’t say.

Mikasa doesn’t react, falling quiet, and Levi finds himself regretting his brusque tone. Desperate to hear her talk, to know more about her— about the Mikasa who’d lived six years without him— he asks, “What about you? What have you been doing since the end?”

The faintest ghost of a smile plays with Mikasa’s lips. “Not _the_ _end,”_ she corrects him imperiously. “The end of the war.”

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Levi rolls his eyes and forces a small, reminiscent smile— a mere tip of his lips, really— and acquiesces, “The end of the war.” Glancing down at her, he meets her eyes, and his eyebrow arches meaningfully.

_‘I’m waiting, brat.’_

Mikasa brushes her fingers on the cravat— a seemingly subconscious move Levi notices. “After the war, I moved to Hizuru as Paradis’s ambassador,” she answers, almost shyly. “I helped foster friendly relations between the two countries and assisted in carrying out some of Historia’s international diplomatic policies there.”

Levi snorts, but he knows that she knows he’s impressed. “So you’ve become an overachiever, huh, brat?” he teases, fondness creeping into his tone.

“Only for you, sir,” she says so quietly, Levi almost doesn’t hear it.

For the rest of the journey, if they’re not resting or sleeping, they're talking. They talk about their comrades and friends and the lives they’ve led since the war—

_“Springer moved somewhere up north, in the new reclaimed lands. I’m not sure how he’s doing, but knowing him, I’m sure he’s doing well.”_

_“I haven’t heard much from Connie either. Though, about a year after the war ended, he moved somewhere in the north of Paradis too, and he married a girl there. Last I heard, they’re expecting a child.”_

_“Armin stayed here to bury you and Eren and helped Paradis rebuild itself. Now that he has three years left, he often goes out to travel and explore the world. Sometimes, he comes by every now and then, especially whenever Historia needs his expertise.”_

_“My Armin is out there travelling too. I joined him for about a year, but… I wanted— needed something more permanent and moved to Hizuru. He visits me there whenever he can.”_

_“Kirstein decided to stay with the new military branch that replaced the Scouts. I don’t really see him much anymore.”_ ‘Do you know he does it because he loves and misses you too, Mikasa?’

_“Jean moved to the capital— to Mitras— to act as a royal council minister for Historia. Sometimes, he joins Armin to visit me back in Hizuru.”_

—and they talk about Paradis, about Hizuru, the leaps and bounds Paradis made to catch up to other nations. The two talk and talk, almost like old times, the times in those private, shared moments at night. But Levi and Mikasa don’t talk about the _other,_ their other halves they lost in the war.

Their Mikasa and Levi, like many other things, are words left unspoken.

* * *

They arrive in Trost at the dead of night. 

After guiding his horse to the stables, Levi ushers Mikasa in his house. The ground floor makes up his teahouse. It’s simple and quaint, with minimalist decor. Shelves filled with jars of tea surround the perimeter. A few tables and chairs are set up, with a counter at the eastern corner near a window. Three wooden doors occupy opposite ends of the room, one leading to a storeroom, the second to a bathroom, and the other to the upper floor, where his bedroom, shower room, living space, and another kitchen are located.

He watches Mikasa admire the shop's interior. “It’s lovely,” she says quietly, looking at him fondly. “It feels like you.”

“Must explain why not a lot of people come here often,” he jests wryly, and Mikasa huffs a laugh, rolling her eyes. Shifting on his feet, Levi gestures to the door leading upstairs, his authoritative mask back on. 

“That leads to the second floor. Shower’s on the right of the stairs.”

Mikasa’s eyebrow rises. “Are you implying I stink, Captain?” she snarks.

“Oh, you figured it out so quickly,” Levi deadpans, earning a laugh from Mikasa. He almost closes his eyes at the musical quality of it. 

Taking a bundle of clothes they bought from a small town a few days ago, Mikasa turns to leave. Levi stares after the woman pensively, even as the door closes behind her.

The sound of her creaking footsteps upstairs snaps Levi from his wandering thoughts, and he quickly busies himself preparing tea. Although he’d never told her to come back down after her shower, Levi wonders if, despite the years that passed, Mikasa still holds a nightly tea ritual, just like Levi now, just like _they_ had once, during the war.

Once the tea kettle is on, Levi settles on a chair. His leg bounces up and down, but his chest feels ready to cave in, his mind buzzing with thoughts. This feels surreal, a little bizarre, admittedly. A part of him still can’t believe this is real, still thinks this is only a dream despite the touches they shared and the stories they told.

Because the fact of the matter is… Mikasa is dead.

 _His_ Mikasa is dead, crushed under a pile of rubble.

Levi had been the one to bury her remains, along with Armin, Jean, and Connie, the last surviving members of his squad and the oldest remnants of the Regiment.

And yet, Mikasa is upstairs in his house taking a warm shower, judging by the creaks and rattles of the building’s old pipes.

Levi wonders if he can even call this Mikasa— Mikasa, Paradis’s ambassador to Hizuru; Mikasa who lived six years without him, just as he lived six years without her— _his_ Mikasa. Are they truly the same, six years notwithstanding?

_And when it stops, when all the fighting is over_

_When we’ve gained a peace we never got to know_

_I’ll be here arms wide open_

_Waiting, by your side, an everlasting fixture_

_._

_._

_._

_Yet, for me I know my answer, my simple answer_

_And my simple answer is you_

Levi’s eyes close as he remembers. The memories of the past Mikasa and this new, alternate Mikasa singing intermingle and resonate in his ears. 

Despite their likeness, despite the shared memories, Mikasa— this Mikasa— is different now, Levi concludes. This is inevitable, an unavoidable conclusion. After all, Mikasa lived six years without him, just as Levi lived six years without her. 

But, she also carries the same memories Levi has of her, and her of him— the memories they’ve shared during the war, in those precious nights and quiet, tender moments.

Levi wonders if there are any other divergent details, any changes from their shared past and personalities that would differentiate this older Mikasa from _his_ Mikasa, the Mikasa who died, the Mikasa who now lives only in his memories.

When the tea kettle whistles, Levi takes out two teacups and pours his special-blend tea in both. Instinctively taking out a jar of honey for Mikasa’s, Levi snaps back to himself and stares at the jar in his hands. Would she still like her tea a little bit sweet, with a teaspoon-and-a-half of honey, he wonders, or would she like it bitter now, like he does, to better ground her to reality?

“One teaspoon-and-a-half of honey, please,” Mikasa’s mellow voice announces from behind him. “Oh, and a small squeeze of lemon, if it’s jasmine.”

A small, wistful smile appears on Levi’s face. Of course. Perhaps some things will never change. “Still like it a little sweet, huh, brat?”

“Of course,” Mikasa replies easily, standing next to him. She stands close to his side, heat radiating off of her despite her damp hair, but Levi’s not complaining. Not at all. 

“Unlike _you,_ old man. I still don’t understand how you can drink tea with no sugar or honey.” Her nose crinkles cutely.

Easily falling into old habit in the face of their age-old debate, Levi tsks at her in disapproval, stirring in the right amount of honey and handing her the cup. They swiftly move to a table facing each other. “It’s a refined taste, something that you obviously don’t have, brat,” he retorts, settling in his seat.

“Ah, but I fell in love with _you,_ Captain,” she shoots back with a mischievous smirk, and Levi takes a sip of his tea to hide his reaction over her words. Composing himself and willing his erratic heart to stay calm, Levi makes a noncommittal noise before setting down his cup.

“So,” Levi says, voice trailing off as his mind struggles for the right words to say next. He’s never really been one for words, which Mikasa is well aware of, even now.

“So,” echoes Mikasa, lips twitching before she turns serious. “I’m guessing you want to know why I’m here.” At his sharp nod, Mikasa exhales, rubbing her temple. “I’m as lost as you are, Levi,” she admits. Then, she takes a sip of her tea and hums in satisfaction and approval. 

Quirking her eyebrows at him, Mikasa notes, “This is new.” _‘What’s it made of?’_

Levi inclines his head, humoring her. “The base is green tea from Hizuru and a little spearmint tea from the northwest. I’ve added a few kinds of flowers and berries I sourced from the mountains to add some nuances in flavor. It’s my favorite blend.”

“You mixed mint and green tea? Odd, I’d always taken you as a tea purist, Levi.” 

Levi rolls his eyes. “I’m a tea connoisseur, Mikasa, not a fucking snob.”

“Is there a difference, _monsieur_ connoisseur?” Mikasa grins at her own jab, taking another long sip. “It’s pretty good, sir,” she tells him tenderly. They stare at each other for a few moments, before Levi abruptly looks away, prompting Mikasa to continue with her story.

“As I’ve said, I’m not so sure what happened myself.” Closing her eyes, Mikasa elucidates, “One minute, I was by the coast, on a beach. The next, I found myself back at the sea cliffs, the same sea cliffs when we first saw the ocean. I found myself back there... with you.” The last part she tacks on quietly, as if she doesn’t quite believe it herself.

Levi momentarily closes his eyes, rearranging his scattered thoughts. So Mikasa’s just as confused as he is as to why and _how_ she arrived here, it seems. Levi purses his lips, pointer finger listlessly stroking his teacup, deliberating on a plan of action before quickly making up his mind. Looking straight into her grey— almost obsidian in the dim lights— eyes, he declares,

“I think it’s time we visit Armin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what y'all think, or come yell at me on my [Tumblr](https://secret-trash-for-mikasasass.tumblr.com/) :)


	4. Memories

They rest for a couple more days, preparing for the day’s journey ahead to Mitras, where Armin temporarily resides whenever he visits Paradis to help advise Queen Historia. Cautious about the fact that Mikasa is dead in this universe— even after death, Mikasa and her Oriental looks are pretty well-known in Paradis, and Levi really doesn’t want to take a chance for rumors to start flowing and spreading around— Levi makes sure her face is well hidden underneath a large cloak and hood. _His_ cloak and hood, his mind adds possessively before Levi shakes the thought away.

Securing three horses to a covered wagon, Levi and Mikasa set off to Mitras in the early hours of the morning.

After the ceasefire six years ago, Historia and Armin began to plan a series of initiatives aimed towards the reconstruction of Paradis in the wake of war. They, along with other government officials, worked tirelessly on working with other foreign countries on creating a peace treaty. Although the fighting itself ended, tensions still remained, both within Paradis and between other countries and the island nation. Historia worked mostly with foreign ambassadors, while Armin led nation-wide projects on recreating and modernizing Paradis now that the walls were gone.

One of these projects Armin spearheaded had to do with Paradis’ infrastructure— specifically, the roads connecting cities and districts. According to Hizuru ambassadors, namely Kiyomi, horses and wagons were practically obsolete in most other countries. Instead, the more common mode of transportation was something called automobiles, or cars. 

Armin, brilliant mind that he has, quickly understood the way automobiles functioned. From there, he began paving smooth roads of asphalt in preparation for the transition from horses and wagons to the widespread, public use of automobiles. 

_‘In less than a year, we’ll have the first automobiles on the roads,’_ Armin had predicted, excited.

These new roads also quickly cut down the travel time between cities, efficient as they are; before, the travel from Trost to Mitras would take about one-and-a-half days. Nowadays, it would take around a day, maybe less with no traffic. And apparently, according to Armin, once automobiles are fully integrated into Paradis’ transportation system, travel time would become much, _much_ quicker than horses. Having been briefed about and seen one automobile prototype himself, Levi understands why. 

"So," Mikasa starts, voice muffled, "Armin lives at Mitras now?"

Glancing behind him inside the covered wagon, where Mikasa sits with her disguise on, Levi replies, “Yes. Only when he comes back to Paradis from his travels, though.”

“How often does he come back?”

Levi thinks, counting internally. “Once every three to four months, I would say. Sometimes more, other times less.”

A brief period of silence follows before Mikasa asks tentatively, “How… how is he, Levi?”

Releasing a quiet exhale, Levi leans back on the wooden seat. “He’s coping, Mikasa,” he answers honestly. “He lost Eren and you, his last remaining family, in a span of months. When staying at Paradis became too much, travelling around the world helped him feel closer to you both.”

“And you, Levi?” 

Levi doesn’t respond. He doesn’t _want_ to respond, and he could tell that Mikasa senses it too. The rest of the journey to Mitras is spent in silence, and Mikasa, observant as she is, refrains from asking any more questions.

After all, Levi’s silence is answer enough.

It’s nighttime by the time Levi arrives in Armin’s temporary residence. State-of-the-art security systems and gates surround the property, as expected for a prominent figure in Paradis. Luckily, Armin had given Levi both the keys and controls to bypass the security systems in place, claiming him someone he could trust fully. 

_(“You chose to save me all those years ago, and I entrusted you completely with my life during the war, Captain. What’s entrusting property to that?”_ Armin had said when Levi initially refused.)

Levi manually opens the gates, and he guides the horses inside to the sprawling estate Historia bestowed to Armin as thanks for all his duties for Paradis. 

_(“Feel free to use it sir, when I’m gone,”_ Armin told him one day.)

“I’m guessing you visit often?” Mikasa inquires when Levi leads the horse-drawn wagon into the barn in familiar movements.

“Not often,” Levi corrects. “But enough.” Turning to the mansion itself, Levi sees that a couple of the lights are on in the upper floors. “Good,” he says aloud. “Armin’s still here.” 

As they walk to the front door, Levi explains, “Armin will be embarking on another voyage to a former Marleyan territory in a few days, somewhere near where Onyankopon used to live, I believe. It’s a good thing we caught him while he’s still in his house.”

Upon reaching the door, Levi knocks a rapid succession of bangs he knows will echo across the manor. He tilts his head towards her when he’s done. “Any questions, brat?”

Mikasa's lips lift slightly, and she shakes her head. “Not at all, Captain,” she says, and Levi briskly nods at her, turning back to face the door so she doesn’t see how much of a sentimental fool he’s become.

“Actually, I have one.”

_Fuck._

Still keeping his back to her, Levi demands roughly, “What is it?” 

After a tense moment’s contemplation, she asks, voice gentle and prompting, “Why won’t you look at me, Levi?”

The door swings open before Levi can think of a reply— not that he’s ready to— and the two turn to see Armin. The boy is thin, blond hair cut short, and despite the shadows under his eyes, there’s a spark in them that only ever accompanies the blond’s interest over anything intellectual and puzzling. He must be working on a project then, Levi concludes with an affectionate shake of his head.

“Captain, sir,” Armin says, briefly saluting the older man out of habit, before his eyes travel to the woman behind Levi.

Armin stares.

And stares.

“Mikasa?” he whispers disbelievingly, face rapidly turning pale, like he’s seen a ghost. 

(To be fair, maybe he has.)

Mikasa smiles a soft, sad, little, understanding smile. She lifts her hand in greeting. The tattoo on her wrist peeks past her sleeve. “Hello Armin.”

“This isn’t—” Armin whispers, shaking his head furiously. His hand flies to his mouth, shocked. He blinks, tears filling his eyes before taking another long look at Mikasa. He shakes his head again, lips and hands trembling. “This can't be. You’re not real.”

“Funny,” Levi deadpans, leaning against the door frame, and crosses his arms across his chest. “That’s exactly what I thought too.”

* * *

“How is this possible?” Mikasa and Levi watch as Armin paces back and forth the living room again and again and again. 

“Careful, Arlert,” Levi says, eyes on the gold-embroidered, maroon rug, “you’re wearing down that beautiful rug." He inspects the intricate pattern. "From an Allied Middle-Eastern nation, I’m guessing?”

Armin ignores Levi, muttering to himself and looking up every now and then to look at Mikasa. “Mikasa is dead,” he repeats for what seems like the millionth time. _“You_ are dead. She… I saw… How is this even possible?” he wonders

“That’s what we’re here for, Armin,” Mikasa asserts, leaning back against her chair. “We were hoping that you could help us understand the situation we're in.”

“I don’t know everything,” Armin retorts, finally wearing himself out and plopping on a chair. Rubbing his temples, Armin stews in silence before finally looking up at Mikasa. “So, Mi— Mikasa… you’re telling me that Captain Levi— _your_ Levi died in the war?”

“Yeah,” Mikasa says softly, stroking the cravat resting on her chest.

“And our Mikasa is dead,” Armin affirms, if a bit sadly, and buries his face in his palms. “Oh,” he mumbles, disappointed, a sentiment Levi wholeheartedly agrees. 

What he wouldn’t give to have _their_ Mikasa again. A Mikasa who lives, a Mikasa who is simply _theirs._

“Oh, and another thing, Arlert,” Levi adds after a while. “Both our counterparts died the exact same way, on the exact same day.” The last day, the last stand, the end of the war.

Armin’s head snaps up. “Wha— you never told me this. _How?”_

“Body broken beyond repair, gasless gear, crushed under a pile of rubble,” Levi lists impassively. He sees Armin swallow, running a hand through his hair, and Mikasa watches her friend, every now and then glancing back and forth between the two men with keen eyes.

“Okay,” Armin mutters. “That… that sounds pretty similar.” His eyes flit between the two. “Mikasa, Captain, sir, are there any… differences between your memories of each other?”

Mikasa and Levi’s eyes meet. They’d briefly talked about it earlier, the morning after arriving at Levi's house in Trost. From what Levi understands…

“No,” Levi intones lowly, “there aren’t. All the memories are the same, at least before… our counterparts’ deaths.”

An appraising glint begins to appear in Armin’s baby blues, the kid’s brain likely going a mile a minute as he connects dots Levi and Mikasa don’t quite see, much less understand. “So, Marley, Liberio, the Rumbling, Eren, to the progression of your relationship throughout the years— everything’s the same?”

 _Of course_ the brat fucking knew. Then again, Levi supposes that he and Mikasa never really kept their relationship much of a secret either, especially during the last year of the war. 

“Yes,” Levi confirms, with nary an emotion.

But his mind takes him to their song, the song he sang only for her. He thinks of Mikasa’s clear voice, the clear, airy voice that sounds the same. He thinks of meaningful glances and hidden meanings behind their words, still clearly heard despite the distance of six years’ absence. He thinks of the scar on her cheek, the tattoo on her wrist. He thinks of the love reflected in her eyes, a look Levi recognizes he wears every time he looks at her. 

“Every detail,” he murmurs.

“And it’s only after your counterparts died when events diverged,” Armin summarises, knowing the stories of the alternate Squad Levi members and Paradis’ advancement from what Mikasa told him. “But in the long run, Paradis, is still advancing and becoming a prominent world power under Queen Historia’s rule, regardless of who died and who lived.”

“Yes.”

Armin stands, muttering to himself, and begins to pace. _Again._ “… an alternate timeline, universe, reality,” he concludes after some more mumbled ramblings. “That’s what it sounds like. Everything is the same, except”— He holds up one finger— “for one, single diverging point. And the diverging point in this case is both your counterparts’ deaths.” He points to both Mikasa and Levi, who instinctively exchange looks before voicing their hesitant agreements.

“... I wasn’t aware alternate timelines even existed,” Mikasa muses, bewildered.

Armin shrugs, his eyes lingering over Mikasa, sadness and disbelief lingering in his gaze. “Yeah, neither did I,” he says distantly. “Just theories. I remember reading a lot about it when we were kids.”

Mikasa smiles fondly, seeing a memory Levi doesn’t have access to. “I remember that, too,” she informs Armin. “Theoretical quantum physics and the mechanics of time. All these years, and I _still_ don’t know what the fuck that means, Armin.”

The loosely-held vices on Armin’s emotions break then as his hand flies to his mouth. “Gods above, you really are… _Mikasa—“_ The blond sobs, tears pouring desperately from his eyes. Mikasa hurries over to her friend and wraps him in her arms. Armin squeezes her back desperately, a blubbering, weeping mess. “I missed you so much, Mikasa. I miss you _so much.”_

Levi looks away, allowing the two friends to reunite. Though, Levi supposes, it’s more of a reunion for Armin. Mikasa, after all, still has her Armin, and her Armin still has her.

Them, on the other hand… six years. _Six fucking years._

When Armin’s staccato sobs cede to silence, Levi turns back to the two. They’re both sitting on the ground, Mikasa’s arms wrapped affectionately around Armin, fingers running through his blond hair and hand rubbing his back, humming, like a mother would do for her child. Meanwhile, the blond grasps Mikasa desperately, like he’s terrified of letting her go. Levi understands the younger male completely.

Reluctantly, Armin pulls away from his friend. Wiping at his red eyes, he stands with Mikasa supporting him and gulps. “We still have to figure this out. Why _you’re_ here and how you got here in the first place, Mikasa.” 

Then, Armin— Armin, the teenager who commanded the Scout Regiment; Armin, the mind who led them to victory; Armin, the man who helped cultivate the seeds of peace and renewal— emerges before them, assessing.

“Tell me what both of you were doing. Tell me every single detail you can.”

Fighting a proud smile, Levi leans back and offers the younger man a smirk. Complying to Armin’s order, Levi begins, “I went to the sea cliffs, where the Regiment Memorial is, like I do every other month.” Armin nods, already knowing that Levi would go to the monument he’d founded every two months and what the journey meant to him. “I stayed, just… remembering, until the sun set and the moon was up. I was just about to leave when I saw Mikasa.” He tips his head to where she's sitting across from him.

Armin turns to Mikasa. “And you, Mikasa?”

Mikasa, affectionate, familial love clear on her face as she gazes at Armin, inclines her head. “I was by the seaside, too,” she reveals. Then, she locks eyes with Levi. “Just looking at the moon.”

Levi’s eyes widen, her words stealing the breath from his lungs in realization. 

* * *

**854; Seven years ago**

Levi shifts to his side, stretching his arm out to pull Mikasa closer to him and share in her warmth. He startles awake when he realizes Mikasa isn’t on her side of the bed.

Glancing around, Levi frowns when he doesn’t see her at all. “Mikasa?” he calls out. “Where are you, brat?”

“I’m out here, Levi,” Mikasa’s faint voice replies. Realizing where she is, Levi pokes his head out the window, heart thudding in his chest. He sees Mikasa above him, sitting on the roof, face tilted up to the large full moon.

“Maryoseshina, Mikasa,” Levi curses, frustratedly running his fingers through his hair, forcing his heartbeat to relax. “Get down from there, idiotic brat. I’m not going to deliver your eulogy if you die from a stupid fucking fall because I might die laughing instead.” Mikasa only responds by giving him a flat, withering glare. 

“What the hell are you even doing?” he demands, crossing his arms.

“Come up here, Levi,” she says gently, beckoning him up and patting the spot next to her. “The moon’s out.”

“I can see that,” Levi grumbles, but he swiftly climbs out the window, using the vines and ledges to climb up where Mikasa sits. “Why are you even up here, brat?” he inquires as he reaches the steep roof.

Once he’s settled by her side, Mikasa begins to speak, “When I was little, _okaa-san_ would always sit outside to look at the full moon. She called it _tsukimi._ Moon watching.

“Originally, _tsukimi_ were festivals held in honor of the harvest moon. Lots of food would be prepared before people would sit outside to look at the moon and eat. But _okaa-san_ would prefer just sitting down and looking, watching. It helped her set her mind in peace, to feel close to the ones who passed and those who she still loved.

“Whenever I joined her, she’d tell me stories. Stories about the moon and its meanings, about a moon god named Tsukuyomi. Stories about enlightenment, of peace, of dreams, and of love. _Okaa-san_ would talk, and I would listen until I’d fall asleep in her arms.”

“Do you remember any of them?” asks Levi, glancing at Mikasa’s peaceful face.

“I forgot a lot of the details,” Mikasa replies, regret lacing her quiet admittance. “I was a kid back then. Immature. Naive. I thought _okaa-san_ would be with me forever. Really, all I remember is just looking up at the moon with her, listening to her calming voice, and cuddling by her side." 

Mikasa sighs, voice full of nostalgia and yearning. “Ever since those days, I’ve always associated the full moon with love. Since then, I would always look at the moon, and remember my mom. Every time I see the full moon…. Every single time, I’d feel comforted, like everyone I’ve ever loved, everyone who's gone, is up there and watching over me.” She brings her hands up, spreads her fingers apart.

Levi licks his lips. His mind takes him back to when he was first taken to the Scout Regiment, back with Furlan and Isabel and the promise the three of them had made, the talk they had on a roof not dissimilar to this one, where he sits with Mikasa. He looks up at the moon, and Levi wonders if they’re up there too, watching over him now. He wonders who else is up there— if his former squad, if Erwin, Hange and all the ones they’ve lost are there, guarding and looking over them in the navy expanse of the endless night sky, the stars brightly twinkling. 

Briefly, he wonders if the stars themselves are the ones he loves looking down at them, protecting him even after death.

“You’re thinking about them, aren’t you, Levi?” Mikasa asks quietly. He doesn’t respond, his silence answer enough. “I think about the ones who died too.” Levi can hear the heartache in her voice. It mirrors his own. “I see _okaa-san._ My father. Mrs. Jaeger. Hannes. Sasha. Commander Hange. I see them too.”

Her soft hand covers his own, and Levi looks at her. “But Levi,” Mikasa tells him, voice strong despite the tears in her eyes, “don’t dwell in your regrets. One thing I remember my mom told me is that the moon isn’t about regrets; it’s about love and remembrance.”

_‘It’s why I choose to sit here now, with you.’_

“Idiot brat,” Levi says fondly, voice thick, and he pulls her closer to him. She rests her head on his shoulder, and after pressing a kiss to her forehead, Levi looks up at the moon, a small smile on his face. “I know.”

_‘I think I’m in love with you too, Mikasa.’_

* * *

From the corner of his eye, he sees Armin rub his chin in thought, but Levi’s attention stays on Mikasa. The moon… it meant something to them, to him and his Mikasa. It spoke of shared understanding, of remembrance, of love.

At this point, Levi doesn’t even know why he’s surprised. After all, her words just support what he’d already concluded days ago, that this older Mikasa shares the same memories as his Mikasa, whom he loves.

It’s just… a smaller but prevailing part of him wonders when he’ll wake up.

(Another more insidious part wonders if it’s this Mikasa he loves, or the memories)

“Did you feel anything, Mikasa?” Armin asks the woman. “Before you came here, to this reality?”

Mikasa gains a strange, distant look in her coal-grey eyes, her gaze fixing on a point on the wall. “Yeah,” she admits, rubbing a thumb over her wrist. “My chest ached. Sometimes it feels so empty, like it wants to cave in. My life after the war is nice and relatively peaceful—” A tiny, indulgent smile appears on her face, and for once Levi wonders what it means— “but sometimes I’d find myself missing something. _Someone._ Whenever I looked at the moon, I’d remember and wish for it back.” 

_‘Wish for_ him _back.’_

Armin leans forward, eyes narrowed. “Your wrist tingled? The one with your tattoo, right?” Levi glances at Armin, wondering how the hell he came to that conclusion.

Even Mikasa looks surprised at Armin's deduction. “Yeah… how— how did you know?”

Armin pointedly looks at Mikasa's hands. “You were rubbing your wrist unconsciously,” he replies before going back to his damn pacing. “Well, I'd say that might be a clue. An important one too. 

“See, right as you were telling me about what happened, I immediately thought about the bond you two share as Ackermans, as well as the Ackerman clan's connection to the Paths. Maybe that’s why you were brought together. From one universe or reality into another, into ours. From one possible _Path_ to another. Different Paths, but still nevertheless what ties you two together.

“As to why Mikasa and only Mikasa was brought _here,_ to our universe or reality— perhaps it might have something to do with her Azumabito bloodline.” Armin pauses in his pacing, muttering in consternation, “Unfortunately, I don’t know too much about the Azumabito family, save for the fact that the branch that came here served the king prior to being persecuted along with the Ackerman clan. Perhaps it's not just a difference in ideology that was the factor to their persecution...”

“But why _now?”_ Levi stresses, regaining Armin's attention to the issue at hand. “Why now, after six years?”

Armin sighs, throwing his arms up. “I don’t know. Maybe it's the circumstances you two were in." He holds up his hand, lifting a finger each time he lists, "Near the sea, with a starry sky and bright full moon, thinking about the other. But," Armin adds, waving his finger around, "this is all speculation. We might never even truly find out the real reasons as to how this is happening. Some things just can’t be explained.”

Frowning at that, Armin mutters to himself, “Should I look more into this before I leave for Akan?”

After a beat, Levi and Mikasa exchange looks, smirking. “That’s something I never thought I’d ever hear Armin say,” Mikasa whispers to Levi conspiratorially, loud enough for the blond to hear. “Something he doesn’t know that doesn’t warrant an immediate explanation.”

Levi nods sagely. “Perhaps the world is ending,” he suggests. “The barriers between worlds and Paths are breaking down, and we’re facing the end.”

“The _actual_ end,” Mikasa jests, “not the end of a war.”

Armin just stares them like they just appeared out of thin air. “Or maybe,” Armin mutters disbelievingly with a shake of his head, “it’s just the fact that I’m losing my goddamn mind, and I’m hallucinating everything right now, in this moment.” His words earn a snort from Levi and a chuckle from Mikasa. 

“Funny,” Levi says airily, repeating his words from earlier, his eyes drifting to the raven-haired woman before glancing just as quickly away, “that’s exactly what I thought too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight atmosphere change, felt like I needed to add some levity to this, ya know?


	5. Chasm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check end notes for content warning(s) in this chapter.

Armin practically forces Mikasa and Levi to stay at his residence, or at the very least until he leaves for the Marleyan island-territory. 

“Just stay a few days until I leave for Akan. I really don’t mind at all,” Armin assures them the next morning when they reiterate their worries of intruding. “I also give you express permission to stay here after, if you’d like. And besides, you could never intrude on me, Mikasa, Captain Levi.”

Levi exhales sharply, his hands massaging his temples. “We’ve been over this, brat,” grumbles Levi. “The war is over. Stop calling me Captain. Just call me Levi.”

“Force of habit, s—” Immediately cutting himself off when Levi shoots him with an acerbic glare, Armin shifts on his feet, face pinching and brows furrowing in chagrin. “Sir.” The title tears from Armin’s mouth, the blond unable to help himself from an old habit, and Levi just sighs again in resignation. Watching the two men’s interaction, Mikasa fails to hide a quiet, amused giggle behind her hand. Both men pretend it doesn’t amaze nor interest them just the slightest. 

Putting on a blazer and a pair of dark, formal shoes, Armin explains, “Anyways, I need to help Historia and Jean work out logistics on a new national initiative they’ve been putting forward. I’ll be back late at night.” He waves his hand flippantly. “No need to wait on me.”

Mikasa and Levi glance at each other, holding a swift, silent conversation. Eyes still on the woman, Levi speaks up, addressing the blond, 

“Oh, and Armin.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Will you be letting the Queen know about Mikasa?”

Armin absentmindedly swipes at imaginary dust from his clothes as he ponders over Levi’s question. “I won’t,” he finally decides. “I think we should keep Mikasa’s… arrival a secret.” He hesitates, before continuing at Levi’s pointed look, “We, uh… we won’t know if or when she’ll be pulled back to her universe. Timeline. Universe-Timeline. Alternate Path. Either apply. Anyways, if people know about her, it might spread, and things might get a little messy.”

Levi agrees, but for different, more selfish reasons entirely.

And fuck. Mikasa going back to her Path is a thought Levi had refused— and admittedly still refuses— to entertain.

Mikasa and Levi see Armin off, and when Levi no longer has the excuse of making sure Armin leaves safely, he turns back to Mikasa, who is quietly observing him.

“So…” he says.

“So,” echoes Mikasa, her lips lifting. “You and Armin seem close.”

Though her words are light, Levi can’t help the tendril of acidic bitterness slashing, threatening to cave his chest in. “He had no one else, after,” he states tersely. “Someone had to pull him back. That responsibility fell on me.” It sounds a little too accusing, even to Levi's ears.

He watches as Mikasa’s eyes lower to the floor, lids fluttering. “Levi—” 

Levi knows what she means to say before she voices it. “I’m old, Mikasa,” is all he offers. It’s a fact, and an explanation. 

Captain Levi Ackerman, Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, moulded by pain, conqueror of Death, emblem of hope. Last soldier standing. 

Old, but not in years.

Levi doesn’t know when he’d shut his eyes until he feels warm fingers brushing across his face. He leans in, savoring her warmth. Mikasa had always been so warm. “Gods, _Mikasa,”_ he whispers, voice so close to breaking. “Why did you have to go?”

_‘Why couldn’t it have been me? Why is the world so cruel?’_

“I think I understand now,” he hears Mikasa utter to herself. “I understand why I’m here.” Her hands trail down his scarred face, move to cup his chin. Tilting his face up, forcing him to stare into her coal-grey eyes, she says firmly, “We need to talk, Levi. We need to talk.”

He smiles humourlessly. “We _have_ been talking, Mikasa.”

Mikasa shakes her head. “We’ve been avoiding some things.” _‘Things we need to talk about, things we need to say.’_

“Haven’t we always?” he states sardonically. _‘It wouldn’t change anything, would it, Mikasa?’_

Her jaw clenches, the muscles jumping. Eyes like flint, she changes tactics and says instead, “Why can’t you look at me, Levi?”

Levi grits his teeth and looks at her, trains his eyes on a spot a little above her eyes. He raises his eyebrows imperiously, keeps his face impassive. “I _am_ looking at you, brat.”

Her gaze flicks over his face, disbelieving. “Oh, Levi,” Mikasa says, horrified realisation clear in her expression. “What happened to you? Why are you so bitter?”

Something in him snaps. “Why do you think, Mikasa?” Levi seethes, taking a step forward until their noses nearly touch. “What do you _think_ happened?!” he all but roars, spittle flying from his mouth.

_‘We promised together.’_

Mikasa stares at him with wide eyes, and he watches in muted dismay when a tear slips past, and then another. Then, her eyes harden, something— a deep, intense emotion he can’t quite put his finger on rising in those coal-grey depths. 

Six years, it reminds him. 

Like the gales in a raging tempest, Mikasa strikes back fiercely, rising up against his lashing ire. “I lost you too, Levi!” Mikasa screams back, livid, jabbing a finger on his shoulder. “You are not the only one. We _both_ lost each other that day, and neither of us were there to see it, much less fucking _stop_ it! Six fucking years we _both_ had to live with that fact, _not_ just you!” Mikasa slaps at his chest— angry at him, angry at the world, angry at the shitty situation the universe handed them— pushing him back. It should hurt, Levi thinks, but he’s numb.

He can’t feel anything. Like ice spreading, diffusing into every little decaying cavity in his chest, he feels cold. Numb. Dead. 

_“You died,_ _Mikasa.”_

_“So did you,” she whispers._

His head bows. Like drapes on a castle window, his hair hides the tears threatening to fall. “I just want you back, Mikasa,” he whispers to her like it's his biggest secret. 

He’s not sure who he’s telling this to. The Mikasa who died, or the Mikasa who lived. Maybe both. 

Either way, Levi belongs to her.

“And I’m here,” Mikasa tells him, assures him, grasping the lapels of his shirt. “I’m _here_ , for you, with you, if only for a little while.”

 _If only for a little while._

“I don’t want this to end.” _‘I want you here, with me. Together. Like we promised.’_

She doesn’t say anything.

Her silence is answer enough.

.

.

Mikasa lingers. She lingers everywhere. Her voice whispers his deepest thoughts. Her smile reflects in the early dawn’s light. Her eyes in the evening's starry, navy canvas, or the bright full moon that illuminates the dark navy blanket of night. Her lips tugged up in a field of peonies or the blossoms of cherry trees fluttering to the ground. 

Like a shadowy spectre, like the ephemeral wisp of smoke, Mikasa lingers. She lingers everywhere. In his head. In his memories. In his life.

Now she stands there, in front of him. Mikasa, who’d lingered only in his head, in his memories, in his life. She stands there as real as stone, as real as he is.

After the wake of war, in those lonely dark nights, Levi lingered and remembered. He remembered Mikasa, their small, quiet, genuine love, and he imagined. Levi imagined another life, a loving family of four, waking up in bed to kisses on his cheeks. Levi imagined a heartfelt love that wasn't torn asunder, a love that didn’t end in tragedy.

Levi imagined a second chance, with Mikasa, together.

_“I promise, Mikasa. We’ll live and move forward.” ‘Together.’_

_‘After the war, we will live for each other.’_

So why can’t he do anything now? What is stopping him, now?

The two stand there, looking at each other. There, physically together, but a chasm of new memories and of a life without each other wrenching them apart, a shroud of strained silence and unspoken words suffocating them.

_What is stopping him, now?_

Levi takes a step closer to her. The chasm gets smaller. “Where should we start, Mikasa?” he asks her, voice low and probing. “What do we even do?”

Mikasa steps forward. The chasm gets smaller. Her warm breath fans over his face. Her lips hover over his nose. The faintest aroma of oranges and lemons wafts through the space between them. Levi can see the faintest flecks of grey in her eyes, illuminated by the day’s light. 

“I don’t know,” she admits quietly. The way her voice trembles reminds him of her defeat over Eren all those years ago. 

Eren, who had left her. Eren, whom she loved. Eren, whom she had to kill. 

Unconsciously, Levi leans forward. The chasm gets smaller. “Tell me, Mikasa. Tell me what to do.”

He watches as Mikasa’s entire frame shudders just the slightest bit. Her eyes squeeze shut, mouth trembling. Anyone else but him, they wouldn’t have noticed, but not Levi. No, not him. Levi knows her. Knows her well, even now.

The chasm gets smaller.

“Captain— Levi, please—” Mikasa gasps, eyes popping open and connecting with his. 

That is all he needs, and Levi tugs at the cravat around her neck, capturing her lips with his own.

The chasm fades away.

_(…if only for a little while)_

* * *

Levi traces a listless pattern on Mikasa’s bare hips, nibbling at her neck. A giggle unceremoniously rips from Mikasa’s throat, before she swats at his arms with a tiny grin. “Stop that,” she murmurs, trying and failing at keeping a reprimanding visage. “You know I’m ticklish there.”

He ignores her and sucks the junction of her neck and jaw, savouring the way a breathy moan wrenches from her throat. This time, Mikasa doesn’t protest much. “Why do you think I’m doing it, brat?” he murmurs, smirking, looking at her through hooded, intense eyes.

Mikasa chuckles lowly again before looking up at him. In the moon’s silvery light, her skin glows like the heavens, like the twinkling stars above. He smiles, tentatively. She smiles back. 

Something in her face shifts then, and Levi knows what she’ll ask before she voices it. “Are you happy?”

The lie easily sits at the tip of his tongue. Still, with one look at Mikasa, Levi knows it will be futile.

“What is happiness in this cruel world?” he replies instead. When Mikasa’s eyebrows knit together, he slides his finger across the chasm that appears between them. “You’re thinking too hard, brat.” Seeing her face, he adds, “Try not to hurt yourself.”

Mikasa ignores his joke, aims straight to the heart of the matter he’s trying to avoid. “Have you ever stopped waiting, Levi?” Her voice quivers. He knows she knows the answer.

He doesn’t respond for a few moments. But, some words needed to be spoken. Some pleas needed to be heard.

So, finally, he opens his mouth— “Never,” he admits to her like it’s his biggest secret. _‘I’m not sure I ever will.’_ Her eyes shut, and her forehead tips forward, brushing against his chin.

Levi hugs her tighter, placing his chin on her hair. The scent of citrus taunts him ever-so-slightly. “Mikasa,” he states. Funny how a single word could hold so many meanings, so many pleas.

Still, he knows she understands when he feels her lips slowly lift into a smile against his neck, reluctantly at first, then more genuinely. “Levi,” she mocks, and the tension surrounding them drains away, if only for a little while.

He snorts, drawing away to flick her nose. It could’ve ended there. They could’ve drifted away to sleep in each other’s embrace, spent the rest of their time together like the old times, without the tense, looming backdrop of war. But Levi knows it would only hurt them— hurt _him—_ in the end.

Some words needed to be spoken. Some pleas needed to be heard.

Turning serious, Levi rests his hand on her jaw, thumb brushing against her sharp cheek, and murmurs, a plea in the silence, “Mikasa. Stay with me. Let’s learn to love each other again.”

_‘I’m still in love with you, brat.’_

He could see the temptation, the emphatic yes in her eyes before an emotion he can’t quite name— _six years,_ his mind reminds him— wavers over her face, erasing her earlier, hovering indecision. Mikasa shuts her eyes and releases a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, sir,” she says, voice torn and fragile but carrying a note of damning finality. His heart drops.

“I can't stay. I need… I need to get back to my children.”

Levi’s throat dries, and something ugly and bitter rears up in him, wrapping around his scarred heart. _Fuck._ He didn’t expect that. Anything but that. But it has been six years, both for him _and_ her. Perhaps he should have. Not everyone can wait as long as him.

“Congrats,” he tells her anyway, the words like acid on his tongue. _‘Who is it?’_ he wants to know. 

_’Is it Jean?’_

Instead, Levi asks, words tangled, “What are… what… how old are they?”

Mikasa’s lip trembles into a wobbly, brittle smile. She brings her hands up, soft, unsteady fingers stroking the bags under his eyes. “Six,” she whispers. “They’re both six-years-old. I named them Isabel and Furlan, and they have the most beautiful grey-blue eyes.”

* * *

**855; Six Years Earlier**

“Mikasa?” Levi softly raps on the nondescript wooden door leading to Mikasa’s room. When she doesn’t reply, he knocks again, more urgently this time, resisting the urge to pace. “Mikasa. Open the door.” Taking a deep breath, he forces himself to stay calm. 

“Let me in, Mikasa. Let me know you’re okay.” His request is a pitch above a whisper, gentle and urging, a tone he only takes on with Mikasa. 

Earlier today, in the morning during squads training with an improved Thunder Spear prototype, Mikasa collapsed and was taken immediately to the infirmary. Having been preoccupied with his other squads and duties as senior Captain, Levi hadn’t been able to check up on her until now, hours later in the evening. 

“There’s a key hidden in the brick,” comes Mikasa’s response, and after finding the hidden key in a loose brick, Levi quietly let’s himself in.

Mikasa is wrapped under her blankets, lying on her side facing the wall. Levi sits next to her, the bed creaking under his weight. A few moments of silence pass, their steady breaths a break in the silence.

“What happened, Mikasa?” he finally asks her softly, threading his fingers with hers. 

“I thought I was pregnant.”

Levi nearly chokes. Of all the things, he was not prepared for that. _“What?”_

Mikasa turns to him, and in the dim lights, he sees the puffiness around her eyes. “I was going to tell you,” she whispers. “But I really wasn’t sure. So I kept it a secret, until I really knew.” She releases a humourless laugh. “As it turns out, I’m only stressed. Just stress.” Mikasa looks at him then. 

“I’m not pregnant,” she whispers to him like it’s her greatest secret. Her hold on his hand tightens, her fingernails digging into his rough knuckles. “I’m relieved that I’m not— I’d still be able to fight to see the end. But Levi— Captain, why am I so _sad?”_

Levi wipes away her tears, silent. He’s not quite sure what to say to comfort her, but suddenly, the thought of Mikasa pregnant with _his_ child sends a pang of _something—_ yearning, maybe; he’s not sure, it’s unfamiliar— through him. It would be nice, he thinks wistfully, before he banishes the thought. 

Focus on the present, his mind instructs. The present and only the present matters.

_And yet…_

“I think Isabel would be a nice name for a girl,” Levi finds himself blurting out. Mikasa stills at his words before she shifts, fully facing him. Her eyes glitter with curiosity and empathy, prompting. “Or maybe Furlan, if it’s a boy.” He pauses in thought, reconsidering. “Hm, maybe not Furlan,” he mutters afterwards. “Didn’t have the best name, despite having the best heart.”

Mikasa gives him the faintest ghost of a smile. She squeezes his hand. “No matter their names, they’d be little terrors,” she says lowly. “But intelligent and strong, just like their father.” She taps her chin, and he’s not sure whether or not to dread the mischievous glint in her eyes. “Think they’d get your height, Captain?” she taunts.

Levi rolls his eyes, not surprised at the jab. “No, but they’d be stubborn and hardheaded, just like their mother.” Levi bites his laugh back when Mikasa shoots him a look.

“Ass. They’d get it from the _both_ of us,” Mikasa says, earning a chuckle from Levi. They share a smile before Mikasa reaches a hand out, her thumb stroking his cheek, over the rough scars, to the bags under his eyes.

“And,” she whispers into the silence and to him and him only, “I hope that they’d have the most beautiful grey-blue eyes.”

* * *

Hours later, with Mikasa sleeping upstairs, Levi stands numbly in the living room, waiting. When Armin enters nearly an hour later, their eyes meet, both men standing in opposite ends of the room.

“Armin…." Levi starts, voice emotionless. "You found her. You were there to inspect and identify her body.” 

Silently observing the younger man, Levi watches as something defeated and crushed and knowing flickers in his exhausted blue eyes. Swallowing down the maelstrom of emotions, Levi asks— _he has to know—_

“Tell me. Did you know, Armin?” 

_‘Did you know Mikasa was…?’_

A tear slips past knowing, anguished eyes. One look at those shattered eyes, and Levi _knows._ He knows, but some words needed to be spoken. “I’m sorry,” Armin gasps meekly, tears now freely-flowing, streaming down his face. Levi stares at him blankly, counting each individual tear that drips from Armin’s chin and onto the floor. 

_Ten._

_Eleven._

_Twelve…_

The buzzing in his ears nearly prevents him from hearing the next words. “I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell you.” The damning revelation and its implications threaten to send Levi to his knees. 

_‘No. No, no no,’_ his mind chants like a mantra. _‘Please. No.’_

“I’m so sorry, sir.”

.

.

_(‘It wasn’t just Mikasa we lost that day.’)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: implied miscarriage


	6. Hope

Levi spends the days leading up to Armin’s departure mostly by himself, left to his own devices. Mikasa and Armin had offered for him to join them in their daily walks around Armin’s manor, but he declined, claiming that the two deserved some of their own time together to catch up.

And they did. The two friends, especially Armin, deserve some time just to themselves.

Mostly, though, this courtesy just leaves him with his thoughts, to his own cruel, taunting mind.

_“The world is very cruel, but it is also very beautiful.”_

Levi scoffs to himself, thinking of stolen hopes and stolen lives. Forty years, and the world had yet to show him its beauty. Instead, it gives him its brutality, shows him its senseless wickedness. 

Thoughts of stolen hopes and stolen lives.

_“... they have the most beautiful grey-blue eyes.”_

… They could’ve had two kids. They would’ve been a family.

Could’ve, would’ve.

Instead, he’s left alone in this world, with only the cold memories and a tattered heart that kept on fighting.

_Stolen hopes and stolen lives._

No, Levi sees the world for what it is— cruel, brutal, merciless; beautiful only to those who hope.

And then, the day Armin is scheduled to leave for Akan arrives. With Mikasa, Levi takes Armin to the royal ports, where the vessel reserved for special arrivals and departures awaits.

Once there, Armin tightly embraces Mikasa, burying his face on her shoulder. The two friends exchange words Levi can’t catch until Armin pulls back slightly. “I wish I could stay longer,” Armin says to Mikasa, rubbing away the tears streaming down his gaunt face. “I wish I had more time.”

Mikasa brings her friend into another tight hug. “I wish you did, too,” she murmurs before drawing away and presses her lips against both his temples. “Stay safe, Armin.”

“I will,” Armin vows and grasps her hand. “I’ll see you and Eren soon.” He says it like an actuality, a cold fact, yet another acute observation he makes of this cruel world. Perhaps it is. Because in the end, where else would one go but to their loved ones who no longer inhabit this cruel world? 

One could only hope, Levi supposes.

Mikasa’s mouth quivers at Armin’s words, but she brushes a blond lock behind his ear, like a mother would for her child. “Three years,” she corrects him with a smile. “Until then, live.” They exchange one last, tight hug, and Armin turns around and boards the ship.

Steps sure but heavy, he never looks back.

Levi wonders if he could ever do the same.

* * *

Despite being a large city, Trost has its quiet moments. Levi reckons it had to do with the remnants of the Titans, when Wall Maria had been compromised all those years ago. Since then, most of the razed buildings left over from the Titan invasions had been transformed into an open park, and once the Walls were gone and the War ended, Trost saw several residents relocate to the newer, reclaimed lands where Titans had once flourished. Of course, as the years passed, Trost continued to thrive and prosper, still in all regards a bustling metropolitan city, but it wasn’t the congested, overcrowded city it once had been.

It was one of the main reasons why Levi chose to settle in Trost and build his business. The fact that the building where he resides is located in the city outskirts, where less people occupy and live in, had been an added bonus.

Nearly half a day later after dropping Armin off, Mikasa stands in his kitchen, wearing the red apron he bought shortly after buying this building and establishing his business. The apron fits her oddly, barely brushing past her upper thighs, and tightly wound around her waist, the red strings only able to make a small, pathetic half-bow. 

However, Mikasa standing in his kitchen is an even more peculiar sight, one Levi never expected to see, but the way she effortlessly flits about, pulling out spices and ingredients and utensils left and right, feels like she belongs there. Like she’s accustomed to the way he organizes his kitchen, like she’s accustomed to cooking quickly and for many. 

Two children would do that, Levi supposes with a crooked smile before he tilts his head.

“Who do they look like?”

His words draw Mikasa’s attention. She looks up from the stove, takes one look at his stoic face, and returns to her preparations. “Well,” she hums, drawing the word out, “Furlan is a perfect mix of the both of us. He has the shape of my eyes, your eye colour, the structure of your cheekbones, my nose, your lips, and the same messy hair as mine. Isabel, on the other hand, is an exact female carbon copy of you. Piercing eyes, straight black hair, narrow nose, slender lips. 

“Short, too,” she then adds with a smirk over her shoulder, just to aggravate him.

Placing his chin on the palm of his hand, Levi tsks at her with a shake of his head. “Does she also have the tendency to irritate the fuck out of people around her, just like her bratty mother?” he drawls, just to annoy her.

It works like a charm. Mikasa huffs, whirling around and jabbing her hands on her hips. “I’m not that bad, Levi. And personally, I’d say she takes it from you.” Levi releases a loud snort, both to rebuke her claim and out of amusement over the image Mikasa makes with the small, red apron, oily spatula in hand, hips cocked, and a challenging look on her face. He guesses by the ease she’d naturally settled into it that it’s a stance she often takes, reprimanding two kids who possess both their parents’ stubbornness and iron wills.

“And Furlan?” he prompts, tapping his jawline. “Who does he take after?”

Mikasa snorts unceremoniously. “Definitely you. He’s quiet, perceptive, and utterly clever, just like you. If he wanted to, he could talk his way out of an argument, that one,” she tells him, chuckling. His lips twitch, feeling pride well in his chest for a child he’s never met. “Though,” Mikasa continues, bringing a spoon to her lips to taste whatever she’s cooking, “whenever he’s with Isabel, he becomes an absolute devil, those little troublemakers.” She shakes her head, a soft, adoring smile adorning her porcelain face.

“Tell me more about them,” Levi urges, leaning forward in barely-concealed interest. 

Mikasa smiles again fondly, wiping her hands on a towel after turning the stove fire off and placing a lid over the food. “Where to begin with those two?” she jokes, huffing in amusement. “Hmm.” She taps a finger against her chin before a light goes off in her eyes, one he’s never seen before, not like that, and she launches into one story—

_“One time, Isabel roped Furlan into exploring the woods close to our house. When they came back— oh, Levi, you should’ve seen them. They were an absolute mess! Twigs were sticking out of their hair, faces and clothes caked in mud. Took me ages to rub away the dirt from their shirts and pants”—_

— then another story—

 _“You’d never guess Isabel’s the oldest between the two. She always loves to pull pranks on everyone, but especially on her younger brother, just to see how long it would take until he’d explode. I’ll give you a hint: it doesn’t take very long. Furlan got your_ short _temper, you see…”—_

— and then _another_ story of the twins. She talks and talks and talks about them, eyes lightening up with an emotion he’s never seen on Mikasa’s face, and Levi quietly listens.

With each tale that Mikasa tells him, a pang of longing and envy strikes Levi’s heart.

Isabel and Furlan, the brazen twin devils, cheeky but smart. His kids.

 _Their_ kids.

A family of four.

_Stolen hopes and stolen lives._

“Let me show you how they look like, Levi.”

Levi’s eyebrow piques, eyes following Mikasa’s every move as she shifts through loose paper on a desk. She makes a noise of triumph, taking out two blank sheets, and produces a pen of all things from the pocket of the apron. 

“Where’d you get the pen?” he asks, amused. He never keeps a pen in his apron. Anything that belongs in the kitchen stays in the kitchen; anything that belongs in the study stays in the study. Such is his disciplined life.

“Always carry a pen around,” Mikasa says, throwing him an impish grin. “Never know when you need it.”

Levi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t get cheeky. And that was a long time ago, brat. That wasn’t even my fault.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Mikasa declares flippantly, plopping onto the couch next to him. Mikasa folds her knees in front of her, placing a pillow over her knees and the two sheets on top of a folder. Twirling the pen briefly between her fingers, she begins to sketch. Levi watches in fascination as her hand flies over the page in precise, even strokes.

“I wasn’t aware you knew how to draw,” Levi notes, observing the way her eyebrows furrow, the way her lips purse in concentration, the way her tongue darts out from time to time. He chuckles inwardly. It’s the exact same expression Mikasa wore back in the war, whenever she was stuck finishing official reports as his right hand at the dead of night with him. The exact same expression on her face, that is, except for the passion alighting her eyes as she drew compared to the boredom glazing her eyes as she wrote.

“It’s something I took up after the war,” she replies lightly. The only thing that betrays her casual words is the way her fingers curl tighter on the pen the slightest bit. Levi doesn’t ask further. He doesn’t ask, nor does he need to, because he understands.

Mikasa’s quick strokes slow, and Levi finds himself leaning forward, eager to see the final product. She swats him away, bringing the papers to her chest and shooting him a glare. “Not quite done yet,” she says, glaring at him some more. “Impatient old man.” Mikasa scoots away from him and turns back to her sketches, making sure he couldn’t see her work, before humming in satisfaction.

“Are you done now?” Annoyance and urgency tinges his voice as he taps a finger against the crook of his elbow, gaze glued to her form.

Mikasa rolls her eyes. “Yes, sir,” she says dryly and flips the papers over, showing him her work.

Levi’s breath hitches, eyes drinking in every fine detail of the sketches, the lifelike, childlike joy that seems to jump out at him from the paper. “They’re beautiful,” Levi breathes, reaching out and reverently tracing the soft lines that make up Isabel and Furlan’s faces— _his_ children’s faces. 

Their children.

_Cheeky but smart._

_… stolen hopes and stolen lives._

Mikasa scoots closer to him. He revels in her warmth, putting an arm around her and pulling her closer. Her head rests on his shoulder; the faintest hint of citrus fills his nose. “They are, aren’t they,” she murmurs, raven hair tickling his nostrils. He can hear the adoring smile in her voice. “My little troublemakers.”

“Our little troublemakers,” he corrects her, and they share a warm, indulgent smile.

.

.

.

Later that night, they lay on Levi’s bed in each other’s arms, the dim light of the moon streaming past gaps in his curtains. It’s quiet, precious moments like this he misses. The moments where no words are spoken, and yet he could lie in the surety that he loves and is loved in return, that he is alive, that this world is worth living in despite its indiscriminate, merciless cruelty.

This time, he’s the one who asks her, blurting out in the silence of the night, “Are you happy?” Levi asks because he wants to know. 

“I’m happy enough,” Mikasa replies before quietly asking back, hesitantly, “… are you?”

The lie briefly sits on Levi’s tongue, hovering, ready to fall. Still, Levi knows it would be futile.

Finally, he settles on a half-truth. “I’m content,” he tells her, inclining his head. _‘But never really happy, without you.’_

Mikasa’s eyes pierce through him, hearing the words he doesn’t say. 

Brat, he thinks a little ruefully. Always seeing through him.

When she threads her fingers with his, though, Levi nearly jumps. He’d expected reprimanding looks, chastising words. He doesn’t expect this.

 _(Six years,_ his mind reminds him) 

(Levi is no longer the only one in Mikasa’s heart. Not anymore, not like how he had been, before)

(This is a fact, an acute assertion. This doesn’t make it hurt any less)

Squeezing his hand, Mikasa tells him softly, “I lost Eren. I lost you. I would lose Armin in three years. Furlan and Isabel, though… my kids— _our_ kids, they give me hope. Hope for the future, hope to move on. 

“But Levi, what about you? What gives you hope here?” Caressing his cheek, Mikasa whispers, “When will you stop waiting, Levi? When will you shed your regrets?” 

_‘When will you move on?’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter, loves...


	7. Sing Me a Song

Their time together is coming to an end. This is a fact, an objective observation, an unavoidable conclusion.

A fact he can feel deep in his bones.

_“When will you stop waiting, Levi?” ‘When will you move on?’_

Levi’s hold tightens on Mikasa. If Mikasa notices it, his desperation, she doesn’t comment, doesn’t complain. Instead, she snuggles closer to him, her lips brushing the skin between his eyebrows. 

He knows she feels it too.

Their time together is coming to an end, and Levi is not sure if he’s ready to let her go.

_“I think I understand now. I understand why I’m here.”_

Unbidden, her words, spoken only to herself and ignored by him in the moment, now flit across his mind. So, curious, he asks her what she’d meant, those words spoken in the heat of the moment, over a week ago, in an old friend’s place.

Mikasa stares up at the ceiling. He could see the gears in her mind turning, forming the proper words conveying her innermost thoughts. When she meets his gaze, Levi braces himself. “We’re getting the ending we needed,” she finally says, softly. “Not what we want, because we can’t have that anymore. Not anymore.” 

Spoken like a fact, an objective observation. 

It doesn’t make it hurt any less. 

Mikasa continues, voice like the ephemeral breeze on the rolling seas, “I think I’m here because we both want to see each other again. One last time, before we move on and close this chapter in our lives.” Licking her lips, Mikasa says, voice like the fluttering petals of cherry blossom trees, 

“I am here to tell you goodbye, and for you to say goodbye to me. Closure, for the both of us. …Our last goodbyes.”

Spoken like a fact, an inevitable outcome. It doesn't make it hurt any less.

Somewhere deep in his heart, Levi acknowledges what Mikasa is saying, understands what she is saying and what she is not. That this is no coincidence, that this is the world being kind in its own, twisted way and giving them their second chance they never got. Not the second chance they yearned for, but the second chance they needed to carry on and move forward.

 _“Promise me something Levi. After everything… regardless of who lives or who dies, we continue to fight._ No. _Not fight. Not survive. We’ll continue to_ live. _We won’t wait on anyone. Not humanity. Not the dead. Not even our loved ones. We’ll move forward and live for ourselves.”_

Six years he wandered through life listlessly, lingering and holding on to regrets. Regrets he’d never carried in war— only after, in the ruins of war, as the dust settled around him in the emptiness it left behind. Only after, when he no longer had the excuse of carrying the burden of humanity on his shoulders. Only after, when the buried, long-forgotten regrets resurfaced and haunted his every waking thought and dreams.

_‘Humanity’s strongest soldier, huh? And yet, he couldn’t even save the ones he loves.’_

This is his chance to tell Mikasa— his Mikasa, the Mikasa who is dead, the Mikasa who exists only in his memories; this Mikasa, the Mikasa who lies next to him, the Mikasa who lived six years without him just as he lived six years without her— goodbye.

This is the chance for them to say the goodbyes they never got to say. This is the chance for them to get their final closure and move on and _live._

This is a fact, an inevitable outcome, and it does not make it hurt any less.

Levi wraps his arms around her, pulling her close. The voice in his brain and a heart weighed down by his shortcomings and regrets rebel angrily. He wants her to stay. He does not want to let go. He wants her to stay.

But the fact of the matter remains: Mikasa— this Mikasa in his arms and the Mikasa in his dreams— is in his past. Despite the memories, despite his eternal love, she is now and will always be his past because she is dead. 

Death, the finality of life, life’s last goodbye. 

And even if the Mikasa in his arms is alive, is here in his arms, still breathing and _alive,_ she is not his. 

Not anymore. Not like she used to be.

(He is no longer the only one in her heart. Not anymore, not like how he had been, before)

This is a fact, an unavoidable conclusion. 

(Though, it doesn’t make it hurt any less)

And so, the cold, authoritative, logical voice in his mind instructs him— focus on the present. The present and only the present matters.

Focus on the present, Levi. Not the could'ves, would'ves,and should'ves.

The present and only the present matters.

_And yet…_

“Do you think there’s a universe out there?” Mikasa asks softly, burying her face at the crook of his neck. Like fluttering petals in the gentle breeze, he can feel her soft lips move against his skin. “A universe where we’re both happy? A universe where the both of us are free to love each other and raise a family of our own?”

For a second, Levi allows himself to linger and remember, imagining, heart yearning. Levi remembers all the times he woke up from impossible dreams, the feeling of a warm house, a family, a loving wife, waking up to kisses and hot, bitter tea in the morning, playing with two cheeky but smart dark-haired children with grey-blue eyes lingering in his mind before the cold weight of reality set in. 

Maybe— just _maybe—_ those weren’t just dreams.

“Perhaps, yes. I think so,” Levi murmurs his answer on her skin. “Maybe, for once, the universe had been kind to the both of us.” Their eyes connect. 

_‘Maybe for once, in a different path where the universe is kinder, we live and love and move forward. Together.’_

It’s a shame that this is the reality he survived in, that this is what the world gave him in return for his sufferings, that this is the lonely path he has to take.

It’s a shame that this is the path he and Mikasa both have to take alone, without the other.

“Sing me a song, Levi,” Mikasa quietly requests in the silence.

Taken aback at the sudden request, he blinks at her, momentarily dumbfounded. “What?”

A ghost of a smile flickers on Mikasa’s face. “Sing me a song, Levi,” she repeats, wrapping her arms around his neck. “One last song, before the end.”

Levi licks his lips, forces himself to swallow past the lump in his throat. He clicks his tongue reprovingly, keeping his face passive. “Tch.” Then, he leans forward and tells her, whispering, “Only if you sing with me, brat.”

Mikasa chuckles, shaking her head with a soft, melancholy little smile. “Alright, old man.” She presses her forehead against his, and they stare into each other’s eyes, sharing a soft, intimate smile. “Only for you.”

Opening their mouths, Levi’s voice blends with Mikasa’s in a beautiful harmony, melody flowing off their lips like they’d practised it for years. Neither overpower the other and instead, their voices meld as one in one simple melody. Two broken but healing voices, singing their song.

Then, finally, their last notes linger in the air, bouncing slightly off the walls in a muted echo, the end to their impromptu performance.

Between them, a small space sets them apart, but their hearts beat as one. 

_Some words needed to be spoken. Some pleas needed to be heard._

And so, before he can change his mind, Levi tugs her closer to him until the space between them disappears, wrapping his arms around her waist. Leaning in, lips brushing the shell of her ear, Levi tells Mikasa the words he never really got to tell her aloud.

He looks at her, expecting, waiting with bated breath.

Then— _then,_ Mikasa smiles brilliantly like the morning sun, lovingly tracing her hands over his cheeks, scars, nose, lips, chin, and says them back.

.

.

Levi wakes up to an empty bed the next morning. He thinks it might have all been a dream, but then he catches her citrus scent lingering in the air, sees the rumple of sheets by his side, the sketch of two children on his bedside drawers, and he knows that it hadn’t been.

That had been real. As real as he is, as real as his love for Mikasa, as real as the love he has for two kids he never and would never get to meet except, perhaps, in his dreams. That had been real.

Levi glances out the window, to the lightening blue skies and sun shyly peeking out over the horizon. The tentative light of morning, the start of a new day. 

Bright and beautiful and new.

_“When will you stop waiting, Levi? When will you shed your regrets?”_

_‘When will you move on?’_

“Idiot brat,” he says to the smiling image in his mind’s eye. “I’ll never stop waiting for you.”

 _‘But,’_ he tacks on as a silent caveat, a silent promise, _‘I’ll move on and move forward. I’ll move on and live for myself.’_

The sun bursts out from its cage over the horizon and onto the new morning sky, sending brilliant streaks of orange, yellow, pink, and blue across the endless canvas. 

(Her smile reflects in the new day’s light.)

_“Sing me a song, Levi. One last song, before the end.”_

Closing his eyes, the warm sun’s rays washing over his skin, Levi takes a deep breath, opens his mouth, and sings.

_What is it I’ve fought for? What is it I now live for?_

_Is it peace I protect? Is it liberty I desire?_

_Or is it freedom, freedom, my fighting freedom?_

_Yet for me I know my answer, my simple answer_

_And my simple answer had always been you_

_You who I’d fight for, for whom I would wait for_

_You who made my burden lighter_

_Like the breeze that flits over the deep blue sea_

_You’ve become another essential part of me_

_Carry on, move forward, you said_

_But I will fight ‘til the end of time_

_Just to see you once again_

He thinks, maybe… just maybe— somewhere up there, amongst the stars hidden in the edges of the sky the new day’s light has yet to touch, Mikasa’s listening and singing with him too.

_Now sing me a song, my love_

_My beautiful, endless love_

_A tribute to our everlasting passion, torn asunder_

_Sing to me a song, my love_

_My beautiful, eternal love_

_A song of our fighting freedom_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn. I can’t believe it’s all over. When I first thought of and started planning this story, this wasn’t the direction I’d expected to take it. For starters, I'd originally planned this to be 9-10 chapters with more Rivamika moments both before and after the six-year gap, but I'd felt it detracted from the story.
> 
> Anyways, I know that some people wanted a happy ending for Mikasa and Levi— I know that I myself want them to be happy to, my poor darlings 🥺 This is why I added a small hint, a possibility, the _tiniest_ silver lining: perhaps, in some other Path, Mikasa and Levi _do_ get to be together. They get to survive, move forward, and live with their two children, together.  
> It just so happens that this story isn’t about that Mikasa and Levi, the Mikasa and Levi who got to be happy.
> 
> No, unfortunately, this story is about the Mikasa and Levi who were given an ending they never wanted by a cruel ~~authour~~ world. No, unfortunately, this story is about grief, loss, enduring regrets, and most importantly, moving on from that. That’s what I mainly wanted this story to be about… it’s just I’m not sure if I accomplished it 🤷♀️
> 
> Suffice to say, I’ve terribly mixed feelings over this work, but I’m also sad that it’s over… my first Rivamika multi-chaptered fic 🥺 Set in canonverse too lol how unprecedented.
> 
> Ahhh wellllll, I hope you’ve enjoyed this regardless of what I feel! Sorry for this long authour’s note lmaooooo i told you ~~_i ramble a lot_~~
> 
> Thank you so much everyone for your time and lovely support, and keep on living, my loves :)

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what y'all think! Feel free to yell at me on my [Tumblr](https://secret-trash-for-mikasasass.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
